


The Mother Who Regrets

by bluetoast



Series: Angels and Ministers of Grace [7]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Bad Parent Han Solo, Bad Parent Leia Organa, Brooding, F/M, Leia needs a hug, Misery Loves Company, painful memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 10:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8324074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: Leia knows that she has no one to blame but herself for all the empty seats at her dining room table. HC Bingo - Loss of Job





	

The dining room table, with all of its leaves put in, could seat twenty. Leia had not seen that many people around it in years. As it stood now, six could comfortably dine, but five of the chairs sat empty, leaving her alone at the head of the table, her mind quietly filling in the place settings before her. She doubled the number, imagining that her meal of one was instead twelve. Her seat wouldn't be here, back to the kitchen, but at the other end, with Ben at her left and her mother on her right. Her brother Luke and his wife would make the group six, along with their brood of five children, now numbering eleven.

One chair left. 

The chair for the unexpected guest. Her father always insisted that you keep a seat empty at your table for one at every gathering. Perhaps Ben would have brought his roommate, or a friend. 

She rested her elbows on the table, folding her hands and resting her chin on them. 

The empty table wasn't anyone fault but her own. She knew it, she admitted it, but it was just too hard to say out loud. She couldn't admit to anyone, barely to herself, how much it hurt to face all these empty seats, seats that could be filled if she'd just let go of all that she was holding in; to find the courage to ask them to come home; come back, if only for one day. One meal. Have everyone around the table one last time. Then the table would be set for thirteen, and maybe, just maybe, she'd get to hear Ben laugh. 

How the hell did Ben turn out to be such a decent person with the parents he had? 

Although she could clearly see herself and Han in their son; he never admitted what was wrong the way she did, and he never came home, much like his father. 

“Why am I even sitting in here?” She picked up her chopsticks, staring down into her bowl of beef curry, deciding that as alone as she was, at least she was in her own home and wasn't subjected to the curious looks of others. Better to be lonely and out of sight than lonely and out in public. 

Here it was, one day after Thanksgiving, and she was still brooding in her home. 

At least come Christmas, this wouldn't be a problem. She was flying out to Vienna, and she and Han would at least be together for the holiday. True, he'd be working, but that was better than remaining here, alone. Oh, she could go out and see her mother and brother, but that was just... it was just a bitter reminder of how Luke followed his own path and had everything go right, and she did what was expected and had everything blow up in her face.

There had not been a family Christmas here at home since Ben was twelve. She suspected that most people with a birthday in the same week as that holiday would grow to hate it. Her son never did; he'd stated that he'd never have to worry about going to school on his birthday. He wasn't even supposed to be born in December, he'd been due at the end of January. Her parents went to South Dakota that year, while Han decided to put in one more tour before the baby came. She had gone with him, fully believing that it was safe for her to travel, and she had gone into labor between ports on the Rhine river. 

Ben's place of birth was listed as Cologne, Germany. 

The greatest Christmas gift she had ever received.

When they had put her tiny son – all four pounds, three ounces of him – in her arms, she had been terrified that she would break him. Small, pink, fragile, and they were four thousand miles from home. She had cried at the sight of him; feeling horribly guilty that she had gone on the trip at all, that the stress of travel triggered her labor and caused him to be born before he was ready. Before he could gain just a few more pounds, be a little stronger than he was. They could have been in a familiar hospital, surrounded by familiar people – instead they were in a place where they didn't even speak the language. Not that being surrounded by German speaking people bothered a baby. 

It was hard to believe, to see him now, that Ben had been premature. 

Leia had not seen Ben outside of photographs in five years, well - her short visit into the ICU this past summer, but he'd been heavily medicated, barely aware of her presence. 

A chuck of beef slipped from her chopsticks, and she cursed softly, and looked up at the empty chairs again. If there was no one to blame but herself for how things were, then it was up to her to fix the problem. She abandoned the wooden utensils and picked up her fork, mixing up her dinner with ease. If only fixing things between her and Ben could be so simple. 

When had it started? How far back did it go? 

At what point did she stop seeing that sweet little boy who brought her wildflower bouquets and art for her office at work and instead insisted he stop being silly? Out of fear of concussions and other grievous sports injuries, she'd kept Ben out of football, baseball, and, most dangerous of the lot, hockey. She'd left him with running; volleyball and soccer were considered girls' sports. So her son ran, and she'd never really bothered to watch. It didn't even seem that hard.

In the Top Ten Shitty Acts of Motherhood of Leia Organa Solo, telling Ben that second place in state cross country wasn't good enough easily ranked in the top five. She should have told him how proud she was, because in truth, she was thrilled. Would it have been so hard for her to tell him? Throw the team a party to congratulate them all? Her own mother had come all the way from Scottsdale to attend the athletic banquet at the end of the year and had gone on and on about how she was going to tell all of her friends back in Arizona what her amazing grandson had done. 

Her phone jangled, startling her and she snapped it up, checking the caller id before she answered. “Hi, Han.” 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Her husband sounded as tired as she felt. “What's wrong? You upset Ben didn't come home for the holiday?”

“You're not here either.” She replied, picking up her fork. “Where are you?” She ate some of her curry.

“Docked for the night in Monte Carlo.” He let out a yawn. “Well, it's almost morning. We're headed for Corsica soon.” 

She set her fork down. “Han, I fucked up.” 

“Leia?” His jovial manner was gone. “What are you talking about?”

“With Ben.” At least sixteen years of guilt washed over her. How could she be such a heartless bitch to her own child? She should have been his strongest supporter, telling others to back off, to shut up the naysayers and the ones who said cruel things about him. Instead, she'd ignored his plight and failed to defend him. “I am the worst mother in the world.” 

“Now, Leia, that's not true.” Han let out a breath. “I should have been around more. I admit that, but he and I, we were never going to...”

“I was here!” She let out an ugly, gulping sob. “I was here and I did a shitty job of being a parent. How the fuck did we get such a wonderful young man for a son when I treated him like dirt?”

There was a long pause on Han's end, and she heard him heave a sigh. “Leia, have you been drinking?”

“What kind of question is that?” She snapped. “What the hell is wrong with us Han?” 

“You've been working too hard, that's what's wrong with you.” He coughed. “I'll see you in three weeks. We'll talk this out then, all right?” 

“All right.” She poked at her food again. “So how are things with you?” Maybe a short change of subject would help her more than anything right now. 

“The company's starting a new round-the-world trip.” He let out a long breath. “I'm sure you've seen it in the brochures.” 

“I have.” She speared a vegetable. “What I noticed was that the prices weren't listed.” She ate a little of her dinner.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I've been asked to captain on the Miami to Los Angeles leg of the inaugural trip.” She could hear the pride in his voice. “I haven't agreed to it yet, but I was calling to see what you thought about it.” 

“I think that's a wonderful opportunity, Han.” she took a sip of water. “When's the sail date?”

“Twentieth of January, we arrive in Los Angeles on April first.” He laughed. “No fooling.” 

“The Caribbean is lovely that time of year.” She set her fork down. “Then you'll have a break before heading back to the rivers?” 

“Yeah.” There was a shuffling sound and she heard someone speaking French, and her husband's answer. “The higher ups came and talked to me about retirement the other day. I don't remember getting this old.” 

She let out a soft chuckle. “How much longer do you have before they leave you on shore for the final time?” 

“Four years.” He sighed. “There's something else to discuss come December. What we're going to do when we retire.” 

“ _You_ can retire in four years, I, on the other hand, have to wait at least nine.” She kept her gaze on her bowl. “Well, my benefits don't start until then.” 

“We'll talk all this out.” Han smothered a yawn. “I've got to go, sweetheart. Time and tide. Love you.” 

“I know.” She smiled as he ended the call and she set her phone back down, and the emptiness of the room flooded back to her. Rather than let it consume her again, she rose and went into the living room, and pulled five photo-albums that she'd not looked through in years down from the shelf and returned to her meal. She set the oldest in front of her place setting, leaving the remaining four in a pile next to her. She taped her phone, and a moment later, her favorites Pandora station started playing a Hans Zimmer score.

It wasn't the best method of distractions, but it was better than nothing. All that went out the window when she flipped back the cover of the first and found a picture of her four year old self, sitting on the back of a massive horse, and behind her was her dad. Not Bail Organa, who would always be her dad, but Anakin Skywalker, holding her around the waist. Leia squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to think about him; because she could never think about him without the last exchange the two of them had.

_I don't want you to go daddy. Please stay home._

_I don't want to leave, honey, but I'll be back before you know it. I promise, I'll come home soon._

A smile, a kiss on the forehead and then Anakin Skywalker walked out the door of their tiny house, and she had run to the window to watch him climb into an airport shuttle van. 

And he never came home.

Leia covered her eyes and wept.


End file.
